


Donor: All or Nothing

by RCs Many Posts (Parker4131970)



Category: due South
Genre: Adoption, F/M, Pregnancy, Sperm Donor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:55:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9310262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parker4131970/pseuds/RCs%20Many%20Posts
Summary: What is Meg willing to do for a baby?





	1. Chapter 1

I have often thought what a melancholy world this would be without children;   
and what an inhuman world without the aged.   
~ Samuel Taylor Coleridge.   
****  
The shutter closed, capturing her image instantly. Startled, Meg looked up only to have her picture taken again.   
“Stop that!” Meg fussed, “With little brothers like you, who needs enemies.”   
“Little brother, ha! By whose yardstick?” Meg's younger, but much taller, brother slid his arm around her shoulder. Her head barely cleared his shoulder.  
“Quit, you'll wake the baby.” A younger version of Meg warned.  
“Oops,” Marcus stepped away while Meg laid a pink bundle in her sister's arms.  
“Here you go, Mary.” Meg said softly, stopping to finger the baby's chubby cheek.  
“Say 'cheese'.” Marcus stepped to the opposite side of Mary's hospital bed. A nurse snapped a few pictures of them before Marcus would be satisfied.  
****   
“Chicago … Two Weeks Later … Friday …   
A large, manila envelope with 'DO NOT BEND' scrawled on the corner lay on Meg's desk when she arrived back from lunch.   
“How many times do I have to …” Meg muttered to herself until she read the return address – Marcus Thatcher.  
“Pictures of the baby, wonderful.” Quickly, Meg stowed her purse and found a letter opener.  
TAP, TAP, TAP on the door frame made Meg turn around, a 8X11 photo in hand.  
“Come in, Constable. What is it?” She barely looked away from the envelope.  
“Here are the arrangements for Ambassador Perez's reception for your approval.” Constable Fraser stepped in cautiously, surveying the room before landing on Meg and the photos.  
“Lay them on the desk, Fraser,” She said as she laid the first photo aside. Fraser's shadow loomed over her, pulling Meg's gaze away from her niece's picture.  
“Yes?” she prompted.  
“She's beautiful.” Fraser met Meg's gaze for a brief moment. “There's a strong family resemblance.” He said before swallowing fast.  
“Oh, uh, thank you.” Meg fumbled.   
“Is he giving me a left handed compliment?” she wondered.  
Fraser nodded, his eyes sliding down to the picture she held. Marcus had captured her looking lovingly down at baby Aurora in her arms.  
“It's my youngest sister's first child.” Meg said by way of explanation; though she wondered why she felt the need to.   
“It's not like Fraser would give a damn.” she thought ruefully.   
“A joyous addition, I'm sure.” Fraser said pleasantly.  
“Yes, very.” Meg shuffled the pictures before putting them back in the envelope.  
“Was there anything else, Constable?” she asked, hoping Fraser took the hint.  
“No, Sir, nothing else.”   
“Dismissed,” Meg said, looking up. With a nod, Fraser turned and walked away.   
After he left, Meg pulled the photos out. Wistfully, she studied them. “I should be having a baby, not my little sister. She's barely twenty-three.” Meg sighed.  
“Oh, well, it'll happen or it won't.” She began sifting through her other mail. Another manila folder awaited; this one from the adoption agency.   
We regret to inform you, but …   
Meg's heart broke against the first sentence.  
Rejection  
Meg managed to tell Turnbull she'd be leaving to run errands before she choked out a sob. She had to leave, to let her heart break in peace. She didn't want witnesses. Coat and purse in hand, Meg slipped out a side door and into her car.   
“I'll always be alone.” she thought. With a Hollywood sense of drama, the sky opened up to release fat, cold rain drops. They ran in rivulets, just like Meg's tears. She wanted warm, morning snuggles and sleepy 'Mommy, I love you'. Her gut clenched at the thought of one more night alone.  
After a stop at Spirits of Chicago, Meg headed home. It wasn't sixty year old Glendorlan but it would ease the pain; for the night anyway.  
****


	2. Chapter 2

Here I stand; I can do no otherwise. God help me. Amen.   
~Luther.  
Monday …  
Meg had three days to make a game plan. A female RCMP inspector didn't rise to that rank so quickly without persistence and determination.  
Over her lunch hour, and on her personal cellular, Meg made several phone calls. None of them pertained to consular business. Using her cellular phone meant no one would pick up the consulate line and overhear.  
“I'm more than just a pretty face.” Meg muttered as she pushed the button to disconnect.   
****   
Friday …   
Eight PM …   
“Here you go, Diefenbaker, Alpo and tuna.” Ben frowned as he set the wolf-dog's stainless steel dish on the kitchen linoleum. Dief gave a happy yip and profuse tail wags before digging in.  
Ben shook his head as he grabbed his own dinner; pinto beans, cornbread and a tuna patty. Bubba George, a homeless gentleman originally from Kentucky, had recently taught him how to cook the southern comfort food. Francesca Vecchio's Christmas gift of a small crock pot would come in handy.  
“Constable Fraser,” interrupted Ben's first bite.  
“Just a moment please,” Ben called as he laid aside his cloth napkin to rise.   
“Inspector Thatcher,” he said, surprised at her unannounced arrival after officer hours.  
“I'm not intruding?” she asked, a hint of restrained irritation in her voice.  
“No, Sir, I was just sitting down to dinner. Would you like a bowl of pinto beans?” Ben offered, standing aside for her to enter the kitchen.  
“No, thank you.”   
Ben watched the Inspector glance around the utilitarian kitchen. She turned back to him after she noticed Ben watching.   
“May I take your jacket, Ma'am?” he offered, relying on manners to see him through the awkwardness. She handed him the thin, red business jacket, revealing her pearl white blouse beneath.  
“As you know, I've applied to an adoption agency,” she began.  
Boy, did Ben ever remember that misunderstanding. How could he forget standing in front of her, heart in hand, offering to father a child?   
“Yes, Sir.” Ben nodded, pulling out the other kitchen chair.  
“Please, call me 'Margaret', this isn't a consular matter. I hope we can talk, ah, person-to-person.”   
Ben watched her smooth her dark gray skirt over long, tone legs.  
“Fraser?” Her voice brought him back to reality with a jar.  
“Pardon?” He felt his face and ears burn as her dark eyes studied him.  
“I said, may I call you 'Benton'?” She pursed her lips, a small show of annoyance.  
“Yes, Ma'am, ah, Margaret.” Ben corrected on the fly.   
“I received a letter today, a rejection letter.” She pulled an envelope from her purse and handed it to Ben.  
“Read it.” she let out a growl-ish sigh.  
“We did everything right, the paperwork, home inspection, background and financial checks, all of it, still, they denied my application.”   
From the corner of his eye, Ben saw her wipe her eyes.  
“Too dangerous an occupation, not a two-parent home. Rubbish.” Margaret pronounced harshly.  
“Perhaps another agency …” Ben began, trying to be helpful.  
“No,” Margaret barked, her face tight.   
“No, I'd only get the same answer, even back home.” her voice softened.  
“That's why I came to talk to you,” She met Ben's gaze as she worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “I'll pay you for a sperm donation, ten thousand upon successful conception.”   
Ben felt his head spin and his breathing stop.  
“S-s-s-sperm, sperm donation?” He sputtered. Almost immediately Ben bent over, his head between his knees.  
“Breathe, Fraser, breathe in, then out.”   
He felt her hand on his back as spots danced before his eyes.  
“Oh dear,” he muttered, straightening up finally.   
“I'll, ah, I'll have to … to, to, um, think it over.” he managed, not meeting Margaret's eye.  
“When?” she asked eagerly.  
“Monday morning, before my shift.” Ben answered, somewhat back to himself.   
“Very well, I'll meet you for coffee at the corner cafe, promptly at seven.” With a nod, Margaret collected her purse and jacket before leaving.  
The consulate door firmly closed, Diefenbaker came out of hiding in Fraser's office. He'd sensed his human's distress but couldn't bring himself to render aid while the female had been there. He sat at Ben's side and gave a pathetic whine of sympathy.  
“I take it you heard her proposal.” Ben stroked Dief's head gently. The wolf-dog cocked his head to the side, curious.  
“She caught me quite unaware, I must say.” Ben absent mindedly began digging at his eyebrow.  
“I'm baffled at her reasoning. It would seem more profitable, more agreeable, if she wanted a genuine relationship.” He shook his head. People around him rarely saw things in black and white as he did.  
“I would give her a child if she wanted a proper relationship together.” Ben thought to himself with a sigh. Dief gave a sarcastic groan and laid down; sphinx-like.   
“Pigs may fly yet, you never know.” Ben retorted.   
“She won't like my answer a'tal.” Ben said aloud to himself.   
***


	3. Chapter 3

What we call conscience, is, in many instances, only a wholesome fear of the constable.  
~ Christian Nestell Bovee   
(Or Constable Fraser's fears.)  
****   
Meg treated herself to a sinfully decadent chocolate mousse and a glass of ice cold milk for dessert; after skipping dinner. Fraser hadn't said 'no' outright. He hadn't reacted very well either though.  
“I'll take victories where I find them.” Meg said aloud in her empty apartment. She finished her mousse and went to bed, not that she'd sleep for worrying.  
****   
Monday …   
Six AM …   
Ben paced up and down the sidewalk outside the cafe. Diefenbaker lay next to the door, out of the walkway. The human had been indecisive and nervous for fifty-eight, continuous, hours.   
Beep, Beep,  
Ben stopped pacing when he heard Ray's GTO horn nearby. The gleaming, black muscle car pulled easily into the parallel parking spot in front of the cafe.   
“Hello, Ray,” Ben greeted as he bent over to look through the driver's window.  
“Hey, Fraser, the Ice Queen got ya guardin' coffee joints now?” The blond detective chuckled at his own joke.  
“Ray, a little respect, please.” The Mountie frowned disapprovingly.  
“Okay, okay. Anyway, what ya pacin' for?” Ray took a sip of cold coffee before making a sour face.   
“I'm to meet Inspector Thatcher here for coffee in fifty minutes and thirty-seven seconds.”   
“Greatness, a coffee date, not too formal. Nice move there, Fraser.” Ray grinned, his pale blue eyes lit up.  
“It's a business matter,” Ben explained, “or is it a persona matter?” he continued, puzzled. “a personal business matter I guess you'd call it.”  
“Yeah, anyway, I gotta go, Fraser, I'm relievin' Huey and Dewey in a bit. See ya at the two-seven.” With a rev of the engine, Ray pulled away before Fraser could say much more.  
Ben paced another forty-five minutes and six seconds before Margaret arrived in her Toyota Camry.  
“Good morning, Ben.” she said, a hopeful smile flitting across her lips.   
“My word, her eyes are so brown, so alive.” Ben thought as he stopped and stared. Margaret wore an emerald green pant suit with a v-neck blouse beneath. At the lapel she'd pinned the green garnet brooch.   
“Margaret,” Ben's voice sounded a fraction higher than normal. How could it not, he preferred her in red, but damn if green didn't look good too.   
“Shall we?” she suggested, flattered with the look she saw on his face.  
“He's going to say 'yes', I just know it.” Meg thought as Ben held the door for her.   
Inside, both Canadians ordered coffee and took a seat in the rear, away from prying eyes and ears. Meg set her briefcase on the booth table.  
“My answer is no.” Ben said before Margaret completely scooted into the booth.  
“No?” she blinked, dismayed at his answer.  
“That's correct, no.” Ben repeated more firmly.  
“I come from a very wealthy family, if it's a matter of money …”   
Ben held up a hand to stop her. “No, it isn't money,” he dug at his eyebrow, which had turned red from a weekend of rubbing.  
“Then what, Benton?”   
Ben tried not to wither under her intense gaze.  
“Oh dear,” he whispered.  
“I want children, I want a family, but a child needs both a father and a mother.” Ben answered honestly, though it pained him to open up to her.  
“That's how you feel then?”   
Ben watched as her expression had gone from hopeful to devastated to simmering anger; the worst kind.   
“Yes, Margaret, it is.” Ben said solemnly, feeling guilty.  
“How do I make her understand? I want to give her a child, I want to give her myself as well.”   
“Very well, I won't bother you with it anymore. Thank you for you honesty, Constable Fraser.” Margaret took her coffee and briefcase and walked away. Ben heard her quick, harsh steps on the tile floor up until the cafe door slammed.   
“Oh dear.” he lamented.  
****


	4. Chapter 4

Adversity is sometimes hard upon a man;   
but for one man who can stand prosperity there are a hundred that will stand adversity.   
~Thomas Carlyle  
Three Weeks Later …   
Diefenbaker lifted his head and thumped his tail against the floor a moment before a tap on the door.   
“Enter,” Ben laid aside his paperwork. Turnbull stepped into his office and quietly closed the door behind him.   
“May I have a word with you, Sir?” The junior officer almost whispered. Ben noted how he fidgeted with the hem of his red serge as he spoke.  
“Yes, but why are you whispering, Constable?” Ben walked around his desk, puzzled at Turnbull's behavior.  
“She might overhear us.” Turnbull hitched a thumb over his shoulder, toward Inspector Thatcher's office.  
“Ah, I see.” Ben nodded, his voice also very quiet.   
“It's Inspector Thatcher, she's terrorizing the staff. They're talking about a strike, Constable Fraser.” Turnbull's blue eyes widened.  
“Oh?” Ben prompted.  
“At least I'm not the only one suffering.” he thought before he reprimanded himself for such an ungracious thought.  
“Margaret is suffering too.” he thought.  
“Inspector Thatcher just fired one of the janitors, a young woman on her first day of work. Last week Anna, the grounds keeper, quit, two days before her retirement. She'll lose her pension. Earlier today she disciplined me for wearing my Stetson indoors, I'd just finished sentry duty and was wiping my feet on the foyer rug.”   
“I see.” Ben frowned.  
“The other staff has delegated me to ask you, as Deputy Liaison Officer, to have a word with the Inspector, please.” Turnbull asked formally.  
“You drew straws.”   
“Yes, yours was the short one. I apologize, Sir.” The constable gave him a woeful look.  
Ben wondered if he'd drawn the short straw in absentia on purpose?  
“Very well, I'll speak to her as soon as everyone has clocked out, tell them not to dawdle.” Ben advised.  
“Will do, Sir. I don't think dawdling will be a problem, Sir.” Turnbull nodded before snapping off a smart salute.  
Ben sank into his desk chair. Dealing with Turnbull always left him tired.  
*****  
Five-oh-five PM …   
The last of the consular staff clocked out, save Fraser.   
“Wish me luck, Diefenbaker.” Ben said as he adjusted his lanyard.  
Dief seemed to look up at him in sympathy.  
“Yes, quite like Daniel going into the lions' den.” With a deep breath, Ben left his office and walked down the hall to the Inspector's door.  
Three, precise taps later, Ben heard Margaret bark, “Come”.  
“I'll be firm and assertive,” he told himself, “I've done nothing wrong.”   
“Margaret, we need to talk.”  
A glass of clear liquid set to her left, beside a decanter of vodka, a gift from a minor Russian dignitary.  
“You may address me as 'Inspector Thatcher', Constable.” she corrected quickly. Her reading glasses lay on top of the computer keyboard.  
“Margaret, you're taking your pain and anger at me out on the consular staff.” Her eyes blazed to life as her face flushed in unrestrained anger.   
“How dare you, Constable, this is insubordination.” she stood up only to wobble and drop back into the chair. Ben rounded the desk quickly and knelt beside her.  
“Get away from me, that's an order.” She pushed at his shoulder as he checked her pupils.  
“When have you eaten?” Ben asked, rummaging through his pockets.  
“None of your business.” Margaret grumbled.  
Ben produced a granola bar with chocolate chips and opened it.  
“I don't …” Her mouth open, he popped a piece of granola inside. She either had to eat or choke.  
“You haven't slept either.” Ben remarked, studying her closely. A moment later he raised the blinds and threw open the window. Talking to her while inebriated wouldn't do.   
“Constable, what are you doing?” Margaret demanded after finishing the granola bar.   
“Being of assistance.” Ben said flatly. He disappeared and ten minutes later returned with a pot of coffee and sandwiches.  
“I don't need your assistance. You've made it very clear that you don't want to.” Margaret had refilled her vodka glass and sat pouting behind her desk.  
Ben let her comment slide, laying it off on the alcohol. He hated seeing her coping so badly. Instead, he took the glass from her hand, replacing it with a coffee mug.  
“Growing up among the Inuit, I learned many things, one of them being that we don't always want what we think we want.” Ben began.   
“What does that mean, Fraser? That's absurd.” Meg shook her head as she sipped from the coffee mug he'd forced on her.  
Ben ran his tongue over his lower lip before he spoke. “How do I say this?” he asked himself.   
“Why do you want to conceive a child using my sperm, Margaret?” Ben asked, his gaze steady. He wished he could somehow psychically transmit his feelings to her; for her to magically understand him.   
“Well, you're intelligence, education, superb health and genetics.” she shrugged, avoiding eye contact.   
Ben nodded. A perfectly logical excuse.  
“It isn't, in some small way, because you want something your can't currently have?” he reasoned, stepping closer, head tilted slightly as he regarded her.  
Meg had seen that look on his face before, atop the train. Again, it made her heart race.  
“And what is it can't currently have, Benton?” she asked, meeting his gaze, her voice husky.   
“Me,” Ben answered, drawing closer to the chair.  
“A child conceived with your sperm would give me a small part of you, wouldn't it?” She leaned forward in the office chair, her eyes dark, cheeks rosy.  
“Yes, and I a part of you as well.” Ben agreed.  
“Is only part of one another all we really want, Ben?” Meg asked, rising.  
“No.” He met her at the corner of the desk, their bodies brushing lightly.  
“All or nothing?” Meg asked, looking up at him, her fingers toying with his lanyard.   
“Yes, all or nothing.” he leaned down, lips centimeters from hers, asking permission, seeking introduction. Meg met him timidly, only their mouths connecting so far.  
“I've never given anyone my all.” she whispered when they parted.  
“You can trust me. I trust you.” Ben lifted her chin so she looked up at him.  
“Okay,” she said softly, reaching for another kiss.  
Ben pulled her into his arms, the fingers of one hand tangling in her hair while the other held her waist. He reveled in the feel of her warm body, her heady scent and supple mouth beneath his.   
“Take me home, Benton, please.” Meg managed somehow as he explored her throat with playful nibbles.  
“Yes, gladly.” Ben pulled away but took her hand. Together, they walked to her car, drove to her apartment and into her bedroom.  
Ben didn't notice the wall art or tasteful furnishings as she led him to the master bedroom. He left a trail of uniform pieces along the way; each accompanied by a piece of Meg's business ensemble.  
Meg switched on the bedside lamp as Ben sat down on the foot of her queen size bed, watching her. He wore antiquated, white boxers which did little to camouflage his arousal as Meg slid out of her pantyhose. For once, he didn't feel embarrassed or awkward around her. They'd said very little to each other, instead letting nature take its course.  
Meg straddled Ben's lap, face-to-face, her arms around his shoulders as they resumed kissing. His hands caressed her back, her hips and legs freely.  
“Benton,” Margaret whispered as he slid the straps of her bra aside.   
“Hmmm?” He lifted his head from between her breasts, his blue eyes dark with want.  
“I want us to use,” she bit her lip, “to use protection.” She sat still, gauging his reaction.  
“I'm afraid I don't …” he began.   
“I do,” Meg cut him off, “But I want to because I want you to trust me, completely.”   
Ben blinked, confused. He'd already said he trusted her.  
“I'm with you because I want to be, not to use you or trick you into conceiving a child.” She explained, reading his expression.  
“Thank you, Margaret.” He caressed her cheek with the back of his knuckles. He knew she'd never use him or deceive him. She loved him.   
“Where were we?” Meg asked playfully after a lingering kiss.  
“On the verge I think.” Ben answered with an upward thrust, his arousal straining against his boxers and her weight in his lap.  
“Oh, Ben!” Meg breathed, pushing him backward.  
Skin-on-skin, they wiggled beneath the covers. Meg opened her bottom nightstand drawer for a condom a moment before switching off the lamp.  
“You don't have to turn off the light.” Ben murmured into Meg's shoulder.  
“Won't you feel self-conscious?” She asked, running her fingers through his hair as she lay on her back.  
“Not with you, not any more.” he answered earnestly.  
Meg flipped the lamp back on with a wicked grin. Slowly, Ben kissed his way up her body, stopping to hover above her. Gazing into her eyes, her face, Ben edged inside her. His loins burned to thrust into her silken heat.  
“Don't hold back now, Ben.” Meg said, her voice breathy as she lifted herself to meet him. Their skin glided, rushed against each other, sheathed in sweat. Ben delighted in the softness of her breasts pressed against him, her tight, inner muscles clenched around his manhood. He challenged her, pushing to bring her orgasm as Meg did the same. Her nails dug into his back as a strangled cry escaped her throat.  
“Come for me, Meg. Tell me what you need.” Ben said into her ear, his bottom lip toying with her ear lobe.  
“All of you, Ben, harder.” she almost shouted.  
Ben filled her, again and again, holding off his own pleasure to secure hers.   
“Yes, Ben, yes!” Meg's voice quavered as she rode the shock waves of orgasm reverberating through her. It almost hurt to breathe.  
When she could move again, Meg nudged Ben onto his back, intent on giving as good as she got. Slowly at first, she inched down on him, her hands on his shoulders as he held her hips. Both of them breathed hard; from excitement and exertion, wanting the whole moment to last forever and hurry at the same time.  
Meg felt Ben's cock throb inside her a moment before his heated release and following groan of pleasure.   
“Oh dear, Margaret, you've ruined me for my duties tomorrow.” Ben chuckled as Meg slumped down on top of him.  
“I can talk to your superior officer, ask for a day off.” she smiled, curling up at his side.  
“I need it, I'm absolutely boneless now.” Ben sat up to discard the latex sleeve sagging between his thighs.   
“Hmm, I can change that.” Meg ran her hand down his back, pausing at the scar left behind from Ray Vecchio's bullet. Ben chuckled as he lay back down to face her.  
“Of that I have no doubt.” he kissed her waiting lips, caressing her cheek.  
Ben and Meg talked a while longer, until their eye lids drooped and yawns cut into their conversation. Meg smiled and snuggled against his solid body.  
“I could get use to this.” she thought silently.  
“Me too,” she heard Ben mutter sleepily.  
****


	5. Chapter 5

Listen to the Exhortation of the Dawn!  
Look to this Day! For it is Life,  
The very Life of Life  
Salutation of the Dawn (Sanskrit)  
****   
Tuesday …   
Coffee and oatmeal greeted Meg when she finally got out of bed. Dressed in Ben's Henley, she padded into the kitchen to find him.   
“Good morning,” Meg tiptoed up and gave him a peck on the lips on the way to the coffee pot.   
“Good morning, Margaret. How do you want your oatmeal?” Ben asked, pouring it into two bowls.   
“Milk, butter, a little sugar and cinnamon.” she answered, pulling the cinnamon from a hanging spice rack. A few minutes later they sat down at her miniscule table.   
“I suppose I should go smooth things out with the consular staff today.” Meg began, glancing over her coffee cup at Ben. Would he blindly support her or give her an honest opinion?  
“That would be prudent, yes.” He met her eyes.  
“I'm sorry I was such a bitch, I didn't handle things very well.” she admitted. She recognized that she needed to take the bull by the horns.   
“Neither of us did.” He laid his hand over Meg's for a minute.   
***  
After breakfast, and a double shower, Ben and Meg drove to the consulate.  
“Inspector, Constable Fraser, there you are, I was worried. I'm the only one who came in today, the staff, all of them, called in sick. It's an epidemic.” Turnbull wrung his hands as he prattled on. His brows rose above pale, frantic eyes.  
“I believe it's what Ray has referred to as a 'sick out' or 'blue flu', a form of strike, Sir.” Ben informed them.  
“Very well then, we've got our work cut out for us. Benton, you call the ones A-M and I'll call N-Z, see if they'll report tomorrow for a staff meeting.” Meg turned to her right hand officer for help.  
“Yes, Margaret.” Ben's eyes lit up but his expression remained otherwise neutral. With a nod, Meg turned to leave.  
“That's unusual, she called you by first name.” Turnbull said in astonishment.  
“Yes, interesting.” Ben agreed, his heart full to bursting.  
“Do you suppose that means she'll call me 'Renfield'?”   
Looking at Turnbull, Fraser frowned.   
“Highly unlikely.” he commented. Turnbull puzzled over it a moment until Fraser reminded him of his duties.  
Everyone, including Anna, agreed to resume work the next day. Meg called her personally, promising to count her days off a vacation instead of a resignation. With the staff down to three everyone stayed busy the rest of the day. By five o'clock they were ready to clock out and desert the consulate. Ben tapped on Meg's door a few minutes after five, Stetson in hand. They'd each taken a working lunch and hadn't seen each other properly all day.  
“Hello, Ben, come in. I'll be done in a minute.” Meg smiled at him as he walked to her desk.  
“How have you been today?” Ben asked, watching her squint at the computer monitor.  
“It's been chilly around here, but fine.” She answered with a tired shrug. Ben sat down in the rarely used second chair to wait.  
“Today has been an eye opener. I didn't realize how insufferable I'd been.”  
Ben listened, still amazed at how open she'd been; calling him by first name, apologizing and admitting flaws. He wondered if it were a dream.  
“Tomorrow is likely to be just as chilly.” he warned.   
“I know, but it's all or nothing now.” she winked at him and flashed a smile.  
“We've both changed.” Ben thought silently.   
They discussed dinner plans while Meg turned off her computer and gathered her things. Dief yipped and wagged his tail at the prospect of food. Fraser had left him to fend for himself the night before and breakfast had been late.  
“You don't have to be psychic to know he's hungry.” Meg shook her head at the wolf-dog.  
“One would think him incapable of hunting, or that I hadn't filled his kibble bowl an hour ago.” Ben chided the wolf-dog who snorted in annoyance.  
“Come on, I'm hungry too.” Meg linked arms with Ben and the three of them left the consulate.   
Meg drove to a cafe with an outdoor patio where Dief could join them. Both ordered before settling down to talk.  
“It's been an interesting twenty-four hours.” Meg began, toying with her flatware. She felt shy but didn't know why; after a night of such intimacy.  
“Yes, very.”   
Meg met Ben's steady gaze. For a moment she let herself drift, lost in those sapphire orbs.  
“Things are different now, don't you think?” she asked, her voice natural – un-inspector-ish.  
“Yes, they are, Margaret. It was good to hear you say my name in front of Turnbull.” He laid his hand gently over hers, stilling her busy fingers.  
“Saying it felt good.” Meg smiled, reassured that she'd done the right thing.   
“Now, if I don't lose conviction when my superiors find out.” The prospect of being forced apart weighed on Meg.   
“I must admit, my relationship experience is somewhat limited.” Ben interrupted Meg's dark thoughts. She watched him smooth is eyebrow, a quirk she'd noticed soon after they'd met.   
“Only 'somewhat'?” Meg teased gently, squeezing his fingers.  
“Well, more than somewhat. My last relationship was … it was destructive.” He looked away, down at Dief lying at his feet. Meg's heart hurt for him. She'd heard viscous gossip about Ben and the Metcalf woman; how he'd captured her at Fortitude Pass resulting in a prison sentence. People had wagged their tongues about the fall of the goody-two-shoes Mountie with delight.   
“Things are different now.” Meg assured him, taking his hand in both of hers.  
“Yes, different.”   
She watched his face brighten.  
“Sir, Ma'am,” the waiter politely interrupted, carrying their meals. They ate in companionable silence, stealing glances once in a while.  
****


	6. Chapter 6

In praising a loving child, we love and praise not that which is, but that which we hope for.   
~ Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe   
***   
Meg looked at it again. The results hadn't changed since the last time. This was what she said she wanted. She had asked Fraser to help her with the process.   
A pink plus sign. It felt like so much bigger than plus; plus a baby, plus Benton, plus her RCMP duties.   
Ottawa.   
What would her superiors say? A pregnancy wouldn't rile them, but Fraser as the father would.  
“He'll want to be honest. Such a boy scout.” Meg thought to herself a she slid the pregnancy test into a Ziploc bag.   
Long hours spent filling out adoption paperwork with Benton had turned into casual dinners and friendly conversation. Slowly, the wall between them melted. After the adoption agency's rejection letter, Meg had given up. Benton hadn't. He'd convinced the agency to take a second look. They'd agreed to put her on the waiting list.   
“I guess I'm off the waiting list now.” Meg muttered as she squeezed toothpaste onto her toothbrush.   
“It's worth it.” she smiled, beginning her two minute brush cycle.  
****   
Ben hummed softly as he puttered around the consulate kitchen making breakfast. Meg insisted she didn't want breakfast.  
“She still eats every bite thought.” Ben chuckled.  
Dief's tail thumped against a cabinet as he stood up.   
“I told you, no more maple syrup, it's far too sweet.” Ben admonished the wolf-dog.  
Dief rolled his eyes and huffed. Ben heard the front door open a second later.  
“My apologies, I didn't know she'd arrived.”   
“Hello,” Meg said.  
Ben heard the forced cheer in her voice. When he turned to face her he saw worry in the depths of Meg's brown eyes.   
“Good morning.” He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “Would you like coffee or tea?” Ben asked.   
“Tea,” Meg sat down at the small table. Dief came over for his morning head scratch.  
“Here you are, Margaret.” Ben set a plate of food before her and a mug of fresh tea.  
“I'm pregnant.” Meg blurted out flatly.   
“That's wonderful.” Ben set the mug down, sloshing just a bit. He knelt down before her, pulling Meg against him.  
“It's a shock.” She said softly, patting his back awkwardly.  
“How do you feel about it, Margaret?” Ben pulled away, looking at her solemnly.   
“I'm not sure yet, I worked so hard to have a baby, I guess I never thought it would actually happen.” she answered honestly.  
“All or nothing, remember?” Ben smiled, cupping Meg's cheek.  
“I remember.” She smiled back before hugging him once again; this time tightly.   
****   
The next few weeks were a flurry of doctors' appointments and paperwork for Meg. She let Benton take on more consular duties, which in turn gave Constable Turnbull more responsibilities. He surprised everyone by not screwing it up – too badly. The consulate offices of Austria and Australia neither one appreciated the mix-up in official greetings – replete with the wrong flag and national dish at the luncheon. Turnbull gladly took a week of sentry duty.  
“Are you coming home or staying a the consulate tonight?” Meg asked at then of the fiasco of a day.   
“Home?” Benton parroted. He wondered when Meg's apartment had turned from 'my place' to 'home' for her – and himself.  
“Home, yes, do you need a definition, Fraser?” Meg grouched at him, undoubtedly crabby after Turnbull's mix-up.   
“I'm going with you, Margaret.”   
“Very well then.” Meg shook her head at Ben's strange behavior, as did Dief.  
“It's not a proper home without the benefit of marriage, Son.” Fraser Sr's familiar voice stopped Ben in his tracks. He hadn't heard from the old Mountie in a while.   
“It isn't that simple.” Ben answered, whispering as he lagged behind Meg. When Meg turned to look at him he smiled innocently.  
“A child's parents should live together if at all possible.” Fraser Sr continued dogmatically.   
“Dad,” Ben turned to quarrel with him but stopped when he saw the pleading look on the old man's face.  
“Ben, is there something you'd like to share?” Meg turned around again, her brow creased in concern/annoyance.  
“We should get married.” Ben blurted, a deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face.  
“Do what?” Meg said in disbelief.  
“We should get married. I want to marry you, Margaret.” The more he said it, the more he liked the idea. For once his father had given great advice.  
“You're serious?” Meg stopped on the bottom step of the consulate stoop.  
“Yes, I am.” Ben answered simply, drawing closer.  
“What about the consequences, what if Ottawa separates us?” Meg laid her hand on her still flat stomach. Ben laid his over it.  
“They can try, but I'm not going anywhere.” he pressed a kiss to Meg's forehead.  
“I want to marry you too, Ben, but the thought terrifies me.” Meg leaned forward, resting against Ben's solid form.  
“All or nothing, Meg. I love you.” He pulled her into a comforting hug, an uncharacteristic show of affection for him.  
“Let's say 'I do' then, as soon as possible.”   
“I really will have a home now.” Ben thought, counting his blessings; Dief, the Rays, Meg and the coming baby. He even counted his father as a blessing.  
“It's about time you did.” Fraser Sr grumbled.  
Ben had to laugh.   
****


	7. Chapter 7

A single man has not nearly the value he would have in a state of union.   
He is an incomplete animal.   
He resembles the odd half of a pair of scissors.   
~ Benjamin Franklin  
****   
Marriage …   
After much red tape and wrangling and a steadfast refusal by both Ben and Meg to be parted, Ottawa relented.   
“They know I'll be on maternity leave and think I'll quit the Force afterward.” Meg commented one day shortly after receiving Ottawa's decision.  
Ben feared to ask but did anyway; “Will you?” His face remained impassive but his eyes searched Meg's for an answer.  
“Will I what?” Meg asked, having moved on to the next thought.  
“Leave the Force?” Ben clarified.  
“Of course not. If I were going to quit I wouldn't have fought so hard to stay.” Meg answered logically.   
“Very well.” Ben shrugged and let the subject die. Still part of him wondered if she'd follow through once maternity leave ended.   
****   
Birthday …  
“It's a girl.” Ben announced to the waiting room full of anxious people.   
“That's greatness!!” Ray nearly crowed.  
“Aww …” Frannie flailed her hands around as tears filled her eyes. Dief howled in delight. Everyone gathered around to shake hands and slap Ben on the back.  
“What's her name?” Detective Huey asked, handing Ben a bag of 'It's a Girl!' bubble gum.  
“Alice Caroline Fraser. After both our mothers.” Ben beamed.   
“That's very pretty, Sir.” Constable Turnbull nodded and grinned enthusiastically.  
“When can we see her?” Frannie bounced on her toes beside Turnbull, her eyes bright.  
“This way.” Ben beckoned everyone to the viewing area where a dozen babies lay swaddled.   
“Look, just born an' she's fussin', just like the Inspector.” Ray chuckled as he pressed closer to the glass.  
“Ray!” Frannie slapped him on the back as all the rest laughed and snickered.  
“Finally, Son, a grandchild.” Bob Fraser chimed in.   
“Dad,” Ben half whispered, looking at his father in the glass' reflection.   
“Little Caroline, eh?” The older Mountie seemed to approve.   
“Though Alice is a good, solid name too.” he went on.   
Ben ached to pull his father into a hug; to shake his hand.  
“I thought Mum would like it,” he whispered.  
“Do what, Fraser?” Ray asked.  
“Oh, ah, my Mum, I thought she would have liked Alice Caroline for her name.” Ben answered, not entirely lying.   
“Yeah, it's a great name.” Ray shrugged.  
***   
By the time everyone congratulated Ben and marveled at Meg and the baby, visiting hours were mostly spent. Only Ben stayed behind.  
“Finally, it's just the three of us.” Meg smiled sleepily, baby Alice in her arms. They watched, both captivated.   
“Come on, time for you to go.” A chubby, motherly nurse waded into the room with a rolling bassinet. Carefully, Ben took baby Alice from Meg's arms and laid her in the bassinet. With a kiss to the forehead, he sent her to the nursery.  
“Have a good night. Don't worry, she'll be fine.” The older nurse's cheeks dimpled as she smiled.  
Ben turned from the nurse to Meg. Tears welled along her lower lids. Her face crumpled a second later, just as the door closed.  
“I miss my baby.” Meg wailed, covering her face with her hands as she sobbed.  
Utterly confused, Ben tried to pull her hands away, to talk to her. After a few moments he pulled Meg against his chest and let her cry.  
“The books never said anything about this.” he thought.  
Eventually, Meg fell asleep nestled against her husband.  
***


	8. Chapter 8

What is a home without a mother?   
~ Alice Hawthorne  
****   
Release …   
Ray held a pot of flowers, two balloons and a pink teddy bear. Ben carried all the baggage while Meg carried the baby. Dief followed Turnbull around while the junior Mountie snapped pictures.  
“Did you bring the car seat, Ben?”   
“Yes, Meg.”   
“Did you install it in the car properly?”   
“Yes, Meg.” Ben answered five more questions with 'Yes, Meg'. Ray shook his head and snickered.  
“Turnbull, put the camera away.” Meg barked as she crawled into the backseat with the baby and the car seat. Dief tried to nose in behind her, only to be shooed away.   
“No, Diefenbaker, you ride with Constable Turnbull.” Ben pointed him toward the consulate car. The wolf-dog whined, grousing about the arrangements.  
“Nonsense, you're simply jealous because Alice has everyone's attention just now.” Ben argued as he opened the trunk of Ray's Intrepid. Dief raised his white plume tail and trotted off toward the consulate car.  
“Suit yourself.” Ben shook his head at the wolf-dog's attitude. Dief had been sullen for months.  
“Please buckle your seatbelt, Detective.” Meg said as she leaned forward.   
“Yes, Mom.” Ray answered sarcastically, pulling the buckle across his torso. A moment later they eased out of the hospital parking lot.  
***   
Meg's spare bedroom converted easily into baby Alice's room. Meg and Ben had painted it a pastel purple and decorated with circus animals. Mostly Ben painted while Meg supervised. Dief roamed the neighborhood, avoiding the fumes.   
On homecoming day both parents looked around the room with pride. Neither could pull themselves away from the bassinet.  
“She's so beautiful.” Meg whispered as she leaned against Ben's shoulder.   
“Both the ladies of my life are beautiful.” He pulled her close, kissing her temple. Quickly, Ben pulled a velvet box from his pocket and handed it to Meg.  
“What's this for?” she asked quietly.  
“A small token.” Ben opened the box to reveal a gold maple leaf lapel pin. An odd gift but very Benton Fraser. The solid gold piece, smaller than a quarter, shone in the light.  
“Thank you, I love it.” Meg fingered the edges of the leaf.  
“An unusual present, I know, but my father gave it to my mother the day I was born. It's tradition I suppose.” Ben gave a half smile.   
“A Fraser Family Tradition,” Meg squeezed Ben's arm.  
“Fraser Family,” That thought made Ben smile; he finally had a family.  
****   
Sunday Night …   
Meg paced the living room floor, jiggling a soundly sleeping baby Alice. The baby had slept like clockwork since coming home from the hospital. All three had settled into a routine.   
“Meg, she's asleep.” Ben paced with her a few steps. He'd noticed her nervous energy over the last few days.   
“I know that, Benton.” Meg hissed.  
“Well, you need to put her in the bassinet.” He stepped in front of her, eye-to-eye.  
“She's fine, sit down.” Meg turned away from him, clutching the baby closer.  
“Is something wrong, Margaret?” Ben looked at her, trying to reason through her irrational behavior.  
“No, nothing is wrong. Leave me alone. I just want to be alone with my baby.” Meg's shrill voice roused Alice who began to squall.   
“Shh …” Meg tried to sooth the one month old.  
“Margaret,” Ben said softly just before she began to cry as well.  
“Here, here,” Ben took Alice from her and took her to the bedroom. He returned a few minutes later to find Meg sobbing on the sofa. He knelt down before her, making soothing noises as he pulled her against him. Ben felt her pain whether he understood it or not.   
“I'm going to miss everything. She's going to grow up without me.” Meg's breathing hitched before she sobbed again.  
“Alice is fine, you haven't missed anything yet.” Ben tried to comfort her, stroking her hair. Meg cried harder. She'd been moodier and anxious for several days.  
“You don't have to worry, you have more leave time if you wish to take it.” Ben struggled for a solution.  
“I don't want more leave time, I want to stay home with Alice.” She coughed.  
“I see,” Ben finally knew what he'd suspected from the beginning.  
“No, you don't see. I've never been without her.”   
“You don't have to go back to the consulate if you don't wish.” Ben touched her cheek softly.  
“But I have to, Benton, I'm in charge of the consulate, there are things to be done, responsibilities.” Meg gestured with her hands, tears streaming down her face.  
“Responsibilities someone else can handle if you'll let them.” Ben took her hands in his, pulling her focus back to him.  
“But …” Meg began, running her hand over her nose.  
“There are Canadian Consulates 'round the world,” Ben spoke gently.  
“But only one Alice,” Meg finished, nodding. Ben knew she'd made her decision.  
“Alright, so be it.” She blinked away tears, letting them roll down her cheek.  
Ben nodded, glad to see she had peace of mind again.  
“All or nothing.” Meg smiled, her tears subsiding. Meg and Ben settled down on the sofa to talk and sort things out.  
***   
In the time following Meg's hiatus from the RCMP she and Ben faced many questions and problems. Together, they overcame them, devoted, all or nothing, to each other.  
The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not an overly long story, but I hope everyone enjoyed it. TYK


End file.
